


Vunerable

by BrinaFlautist



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Gen, Personification, humanization, like ever., mention of rat ass, one (1) curse word, some suggestive references, the only time terror is nice to hickey, very small mention of sexual assault?, violence mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 01:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinaFlautist/pseuds/BrinaFlautist
Summary: Terror cares for Hickey after his punishment.





	Vunerable

She was thankful Erebus wasn’t here. 

 

Not merely because of the punishments that had just been handed out; she knew Erebus couldn’t stand them. It was, rather, because of the fact that she was guiding her caulker’s mate, Cornelius Hickey, to the medical ward to tend to his wounds. 

 

She hated Mr. Hickey. Everyone knew it, and no one knew better than Mr. Hickey himself. Yet, during his punishment, she began feeling remorse. She had even contemplated telling her captain to stop, but restrained herself.  When the punishment was over, however, and he was freed of the tight ropes restraining him, Terror immediately ran to his side, without thinking. She could feel the confused and concerned stares of her crew, of Francis and even of Erebus’ own captain. 

 

Terror herself wasn’t sure what had gotten into her. The rational part of her brain was urging her to just drop him; let him find his own way to the medical ward. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Hickey himself didn’t say a word. He was scared to death of Terror, yet he was silently relishing in the fact that she was touching his unclothed body. 

 

When they reached the medical ward, Terror sat Mr. Hickey on the wooden table. She removed her coat and tied her hair in a bun. Dr. MacDonald attempted to take it from there, but Terror insisted that she care for Cornelius herself. She told him to fetch a bucket of water and a cloth. 

 

Hickey hadn’t moved and was still facing the wooden wall of the room.  Still, he knew Terror was staring at him; he could sense the burning glare that she always looked at him with. Terror, too, remained silent. Dr. MacDonald returned a minute or so later with the items Terror had requested. She thanked him, and he left. 

 

It was just Terror and Hickey in the room now. She could see his body tense up as she approached him, cloth and water bucket in hand. 

 

“I’m just going to clean your wounds.” Her voice is still sharp; it was how she usually spoke to Hickey. The sense of anger, however, was absent.  She dunked the cloth in the water bucket, then wrung it out as much as she could. “It might sting a bit.” 

 

She carefully pressed the damp cloth against one of the scars inflicted by the whip. Hickey winced and grunted in pain. 

 

“I’m going to need you to stay still, Cornelius.” She never called him Cornelius. It was always “Mr. Hickey,” “Rat Boy,” “Shitface.” She never treated him with dignity. Something really was wrong with her. 

 

Neither said a word as Terror finished cleaning the blood off his back, save for occasional cursing and scolding from Terror.  However, both Hickey and Terror were aware that she was not finished. 

 

There were a thousand things Terror would rather do than touch Cornelius Hickey’s buttocks for any reason, but she had already come this far. 

 

“Lie down.” 

 

He did as she instructed. With great hesitation, she pulled down his pants, revealing the continued trail of lash wounds. She couldn’t see his face, but she was certain that he was smirking.  She prepared the rag as she did before, lightly dabbing the blood away. 

 

“What did I do to deserve your kindness, Miss Terror?” 

 

“I wouldn’t call it kindness, Mr. Hickey.” She dunked the cloth in the water bucket and moved on to the other cheek. 

 

“What is it, then?” 

 

“Weakness.”  _ Surely Hickey would know that, _ she thought. She was not worried about Hickey attempting to take advantage of her vulnerable state; he wouldn’t dare do such a thing to Terror. It wasn’t worth the consequences. 

 

“Perhaps it is my motherly instinct,” she remarked. “A ship must care for and protect her men. Even the ones she despises.” 

 

She finished cleaning the wounds and hastily pulled up Hickey’s pants; she couldn’t bear to look at his ass any longer. 

 

“I’ll go get Dr. MacDonald.” 

 

Hickey didn’t say a word. His eyes followed Terror as she set the bucket and cloth aside, wiping the blood off her hands. She picked up her coat and made her way towards the door. 

 

“Oh, and Mr. Hickey?” 

 

Hickey lifted his head up, and Terror turned around to face him.” 

 

“Do not expect this behavior from me in the future. And do not speak of this to anyone.” 

 

She smiled at him for the first and last time, and with the swish of her skirt, she is gone. 


End file.
